Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Congo and from Woodstock.
But I was there.
I was there in 1967.
I was there at the first Rodriguez show in Detroit.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1975.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Glasgow and Halifax.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Beijing kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1983 at the first Bronski Beat practice in a loft in Brixton.
I was working on the sitar sounds with much patience.
I was there when Donald Fagen started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Terrestrial Tones to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Whodini. All the underground hits.
All Ultra Naté tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Porter Ricks record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal crunk hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a chamberlin and a güiro and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Albert Ayler record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a marimba.
I hear that you and your band have sold your marimba and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Royal Trux,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Susan Cadogan,
Stiv Bators,
Tim Buckley,
Iggy Pop,
Roxy Music,
Charles Mingus,
Simply Red,
The Neon Judgement,
The Moody Blues,
Negative Approach,
Ash Ra Tempel,
Harmonia,
Jerry Gold Smith,
Magazine,
The Pop Group,
The Associates,
Babytalk,
T.S.O.L.,
EPMD,
Junior Murvin,
Sällskapet,
Television Personalities,
Slave,
Faust,
Ultra Naté,
Zapp,
Fat Boys,
Ornette Coleman,
Agent Orange,
Stockholm Monsters,
The Cowsills,
Barrington Levy,
Pulsallama,
Average White Band,
Scratch Acid,
Marine Girls,
The Grass Roots,
T. Rex,
Dorothy Ashby,
Dawn Penn,
The Shadows of Knight,
Cluster,
Cecil Taylor,
Amazonics,
8 Eyed Spy,
Lee Hazlewood,
Qualms,
Unwound,
Jerry's Kids,
Scientists,
The Electric Prunes,
Scan 7,
The Smoke,
The Gap Band,
Alton Ellis,
Donald Byrd,
Japan,
David Bowie,
Flash Fearless,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Little Man,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca, Glenn Branca.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.